


and when we burst, start over (begin again)

by HedaCoco



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, useless angst tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6018180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedaCoco/pseuds/HedaCoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It set them back, it seemed the affairs of war always did. </p><p>Canon to 3x04.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when we burst, start over (begin again)

**Author's Note:**

> One Shot scrapped from a failed attempt at something else. Aka unresolved angst.

After that first night Lexa had knocked on Clarke’s door there was an interruption, the following day word from Arkadia made its way to Polis and Clarke could hardly breathe past the news. It couldn’t have been true. 

The night before she questioned Lexa about forgiveness, how could she forgive those in her coalition that went against her? Then Clarke was on the peak of a small hill looking down into a valley of bodies thinking how wrong she had been about so many things for so long.

Clarke had taken to going on acting as if she knew how it all worked, but Lexa had been right; Polis did change the way she thought about the people of the ground. Clarke thought she knew when she told Lexa that she already had changed her mind and then again when Lexa left her stranded at the mountain facing a choice that would reduce her to pieces. Though Clarke came to find that she had no idea. She’d had to witness it, the precise balance peace existed on and the graceful sacrifices Lexa made to keep it that way. 

It didn’t sit right, acknowledging she herself was a sacrifice. It would remain difficult to swallow for a while but Clarke was armed with the knowledge of the mechanics and that made a difference. 

They were doing what they thought was right for their people too. Lexa’s explanation resonated in her, she understood. Everyone came to a line drawn in the dirt and for their people---they crossed it. 

But this, the slaughter. Clarke wondered which of her own choices had been made out of this type of ignorance and the look on Lexa’s face as she looked out over the same lifeless bodies makes Clarke ache in ways she didn’t think she has before. Wanheda, commander of death, keeper of demons and this sort of reckless pain was new. 

It was not on Clarke’s mind anymore, every selfish thought she had while wrapping a clean bandage around Lexa’s damaged hand. She wouldn’t think of it for a while. Not until the anger drained from Lexa, if that were possible. Then some nights later she appeared to her again. 

Clarke wished she could fix something as simple as a deep slice to Lexa’s palm, not that she wished Lexa physical harm, Clarke just knew clearing away the unusual dark blood was an easier task than the darkness that Lexa held in her eyes. 

Clarke mourned for the quiet moment and Lexa’s smile because now Lexa was tired, back in Polis, heavier with loss. 

Clarke swallowed around her still tongue, at a loss for what to say while holding back questions she had no right to ask. 

This time she moved aside straight away, no question toward what it was Lexa was doing there. 

“Come in.” She said and stepped back for Lexa to pass. 

What troubled her was the differences in the time now and the time then, Lexa’s hair still fell over her shoulder, free from braids and with a casualness Clarke had remembered noting that she hadn’t seen before but her clothes were different. While Clarke had washed her face and slipped into the lent nightgown that was part of her gifted wardrobe, Lexa was still in her day clothes. Oily remnants of warpaint still sticking around and in her hairline though her face was clear. Along with the ridged way Lexa held herself, Clarke knew she had something to say, that she hadn’t come calling just to bid her goodnight. 

“I’m glad that you decided to return here to Polis, Clarke.” Lexa said, her voice careful in a way that grew Clarke’s concern. 

“That sounds like it has a but…” She said, trying not to sound accusing. 

Lexa almost smiled, but not quite. 

“There isn’t.” The Commander assured but she did not relax and Clarke waited silently for her to continue. 

They didn’t move any further into the room she had taken up as her own. Instead they stood near the entrance, only the closed door making Clarke feel the moment private.

“It’s just…” So there was a but. “I will be leaving at first light.” 

Their eyes met then and Clarke saw it, the apology, the dread. She had seen it before. 

“For Arkadia.” Lexa finished and although it seemed as though she wished to look away, she held Clarke’s gaze. 

Clarke wasn’t foolish enough to think business had been completely taken care of in the days they spent recovering the dead near Arkadia so this did not seem surprising to Clarke. Except that she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t fully understand. 

“I will prepare to join you.” Clarke said, making to move and pull more appropriate clothing from the old and frail trunk at the end of the bed. 

Though that is when Lexa looked away, eyes lowering sadly. 

“I am sorry Clarke…” She said, the sincerity so thick it cut into Clarke exactly how an apology shouldn’t. “You will remain here in Polis.” Lexa’s tone was soft, something Clarke had come to realize was reserved for few--herself included--but her words felt strong, sure. “Your people are divided and action must be taken. I---you need not face these decisions. As Ambassador you represent your clan here but you are not their leader and your presence is not needed.” 

Clarke’s stomach came alive with a sickening worry, she knew exactly what that meant but she asked anyway. “What kind of action?” 

Lexa stepped away, toward the door. “Your door will be guarded but I trust you will prove it an unnecessary precaution.” 

“Lexa…”

“Those who stand with us will come to no harm.” It was a promise or a reassurance but it brought Clarke no comfort and panic caused her to reach out to Lexa, grasping at her arm in a desperate attempt to keep her from going. 

Lexa’s expression changed, from a placid blankness to one of near rage. It was startling and Clarke released her hold immediately. 

“Lexa, please.” Clarke hated the sound in her voice, the pleading. She understood what actions needed to be taken, she didn’t need to be sheltered and she certainly wouldn’t allow Lexa go off and dismantle her people without putting up her own fight. 

“The people of Arkadia who stand with the thirteenth clan will be protected, you among them. You will remain here, Clarke.” Lexa softened and Clarke was so disarmed by the look she was given she took a step back. She almost missed the anger, anger was easier to understand. “A large number of my people lay in graves before their time in a war that should not have been started. It will not stand. I swore that I would put the needs of your people above my own and bloodshed has poisoned that, but action taken now to the guilty is all I can offer. You must understand that.” 

It sounded almost like pleading on Lexa’s part too. There they stood, mouths full of wanting and only Lexa had the power to make hers so. 

“Trust me.” 

It was a lot to ask of Clarke, too much. She couldn’t trust her, not yet. That was the problem. 

Clarke shook her head and Lexa drew back her shoulders. 

“Very well.” She spoke evenly, each syllable sounding forced. “Titus will aid you should you need anything.” 

Then she was gone. 

It set them back, it seemed the affairs of war always did. Lexa returned days later with a ragged looking bunch of Arkadians and a group of worse off prisoners, those who had been involved in the murder of Trikru ranks. The friends in tow were proof to Clarke and for Lexa, she assumed, the allies of the sky people in her presence was just as much a show of warning as the prisoners were of victory. Their fate would be trialed by council. 

When Lexa came knocking to Clarke’s door again she didn’t let her in. Lexa tried twice and Clarke swore she had almost heard the deep sigh through the wood but it may have been imagined. 

They would come together again and it may have been unfair to hold it against Lexa but being kept as a prisoner in the tower was not treatment Clarke agreed with and though Lexa had kept her word and proven that she could be trusted they were still a long way off. Thankfully, Lexa’s stubbornness outweighed Clarke’s and the next night, Lexa came calling again. She would each night until Clarke let her in. 


End file.
